


Five times Sansa called Jon a bastard, and one time she didn’t

by it_was_so_human



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_was_so_human/pseuds/it_was_so_human
Summary: (She didn’t even think that was possible. That she could hurt him.)





	Five times Sansa called Jon a bastard, and one time she didn’t

1.) 

The word was so _unpretty,_  especially when coming out of someone so _very_ pretty.

But at five-years-old Sansa had just learned what a bastard was and had only wanted to explain it to her brothers.

(Because it explained _so much_ , especially her mother’s distance.)  

But now Jon looked… _hurt_. His face had fallen and it was never her intention to hurt him.

(She didn’t even think that was possible. That _she_ could hurt him.)

-

2.) 

No one wanted to play with her, and she was so very upset. Sansa had even brought her new doll outside, risking the dirt and mud of the courtyard to no avail.

She should have just found Jeyne. Instead she’s circling her rambunctious messy brothers trying to get their attention.

It was so hard to get them to care about dolls. But they _could_ if they tried. Even Jon Snow who spent half his time brooding in the corners and the other half only play fighting with Robb (and now Arya and even Bran.)

“Could I at least be the princess?” she called to her brothers.

But they only ignored her.

“I can be Queen Naerys!” she tried again.

 _NO_ , they shouted back in unison.

She was frustrated, and wiped back unwelcome tears. They _always_ teased that Sansa was too much of a lady, that she never _played_ or had fun and when she tried they ignored her.

Her frustration was turning into anger. 

“Rob, please let me join! You rather play with our _bastard_ brother instead of me?”

This stopped the game and they both turned to face her.

“Go back to your septa, Sansa,” Robb says angrily.

She was admonished, but she wasn’t _wrong_. So she became more resolute.

“But he _is_ and you won’t play—“

“ _Go Sansa_ ,” he repeated in that fledgling Lord-voice.

Jon just looked at his shoes, and Sansa felt a pang in her heart.

She didn’t mean to upset her half brother, but now she was too embarrassed by Robb’s reprimands to try and fix this. 

(And besides, Mother calls him that! She’s even heard Robb call him that before! She doesn’t know why they’re so angry when _she_ does it.)

She just won’t try to play with Jon ever again.

-

3.)

She had seen Jon fumbling while talking to a steward’s daughter the other day, so she gently tries to give him some advice.

(Talking or probably just grunting. Jon was _such a boy_.)

So told him to be very polite, try _complimenting_ her Jon, oh and also make sure to her that her name is pretty!

(Ladies _love_ being told their name is pretty. Sansa knew this because her name _is_ pretty.)

His ears perk up at her advice she was so _glad_ that he seemed so receptive. 

She really wants to help. This is something _she_ can help with! 

“I think…  I think a bastard need be especially courtly,” she said with a soft smile, trying to encourage him. “Don’t you agree?” 

But he only shrugs her off and Sansa’s face fell.

She didn’t… she didn’t _mean_ anything by it. She didn’t _dislike_ him for being a bastard. 

(It was just what he was. Just like Robb was heir to Winterfell and she would be a Lord’s wife.)

-

4.)

She would survive the Vale because the bastard Alayne Stone was strong and vigilant and could survive.

Just like Sansa Stark’s bastard brother, Jon Snow.  

If Sansa was here and if Jon was here she could tell him. She could tell him that she gets it now.

_She understands._

-

5.)

Ramsay cruelly taunts that her bastard brother was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch now.

“My… my _bastard brother_ ,” she managed to repeat. 

And she feels… almost proud.

But also _angry_.    

Being a trueborn daughter did nothing for her. Instead it only made her a prop, a target, a tool, a _puppet_.

Being Ned and Catelyn Stark’s daughter didn’t help her now. In the walls of her own home, _of the castle that she loved and played in and learned and stitched and picked flowers_ , she was beaten and flayed and bruised and _alone_.

She wishes that she was still a bastard too.  

But… if her brother was at the Wall, _Lord Commander_ , maybe maybe he would find her?

(Would Jon find her? _Would he care enough to?_ )

No. That would never happen.

(Jon had no duty to her.)

But maybe… maybe she could find him?

(But would Jon welcome her? _Would he send her back?_ )

((No, he’s her brother. He would keep her safe.))

-

_**After**  _

_I’ve become what your mother always feared a bastard would be. The bastard stealing her children’s claim to Winterfell and the North.  And now I’ve taken her daughter._

Gods, it’s so very typical of Jon to get all guilty and contemplative and melancholy. 

Especially after _that_.

But she wishes he wouldn’t.

Especially not after how much they both _enjoyed_ that.

So she shakes her head and places her hand on his cheek.

“Jon, you are a Stark. And more importantly—now you’re my _husband_.”

And his face brightens and he gives her a dumb smile.

So she welcomes his kisses and the arms he wraps around her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, Tumblr is being super unreliable with my tags... so I'm moving some drabbles over here. 
> 
> (But let's still be friends there! I'm it-was-so-human.)


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